See No Evil
by MeanieFace
Summary: Darcy thinks Loki is misunderstood. Loki wants her to. Darcy/Loki, Thor 2 AU. (semi-Dark at first)


** Chapter One: **

** Speak No Evil**

"You have betrayed us all."

Loki looked up from the gleaming floor at his knees to the majesty of the throne, where Odin Allfather stood tall and impossibly frightening before him.

Loki looked back down at the floor and did not raise his head again.

"You have forsaken all I have given you. Forsaken the love of your family. The love of your _mother_. What did you hope to gain?"

Silence.

Odin waited. When Loki did not answer, Odin lifted his staff and struck it against the floor in anger. The resulting boom echoed like the crack of thunder.

_"Speak, boy!"_

The very floor trembled with the power of Odin's voice. Loki cringed, but remained silent.

Again Odin waited, but Loki did not speak. Loki wondered if there was truly anything to say.

He continued to stare at the floor. The opulence of this room struck him; The gilt and golden shine of it all. Even the floor was a work of art. It was a room he had once been to every day of his life, but not until now, on his knees, defeated and pathetic under the gaze of its king, did he truly _see_ it.

This luxury was never for him. He was allowed to be present within it, but it was never meant for him.

Odin stalked to him, boots cracking against the smooth floor. He grasped Loki's hair, raising up his face, forcing him to look Odin in the eye.

"Why hold your tongue, Loki? Why do words fail the great _Liesmith_ now, of all times? Are your lips sewn _shut_?!"He viciously let go of Loki, and Loki fell back onto the floor.

Odin had never before referred to Loki by the names others gave him.

Even now, after he had done so much to separate himself from this man, he felt the twinge of betrayal.

"So be it."

Odin called in the guards.

* * *

Loki was dragged, body still broken and bleeding from the battle on Stark Tower, into Odin's dungeon. Neither the pleadings of Thor nor his mother could help him when he was judged for his crimes. Odin was merciful, however. Magic suppressing chains had been placed around Loki's wrists by Odin himself, and then he was deemed unfit for the freedoms he tried to deny the people of Midgard. He would be locked away indefinitely; until Odin saw fit to release him.

Imprisonment was the best he could have hoped for, given the magnitude of his actions. the guards dragging his body stopped at the end of the hallway, unlocked a cell, and dropped him none too gently onto the dank, dusty floor. they then locked the door and retreated without words, and Loki was plunged into deafening silence.

* * *

Some days Thor would come to see him. Thor would ask him if he was well; if he needed anything.

Loki would say nothing.

Sometimes his mother would visit. At first, Loki expected an interrogation, but she would not ask him about the actions that led to his punishment. She would only speak to him of good things; happy memories of his childhood or the latest gossip of nobles. Sometimes she would bring a book to read to him. He would not speak to his mother either; but it was not needed, because she seemed to only speak _at_ him. He appreciated her subtle refusal to pressure him, but he wondered why she did not. Did she not care?

Sometimes when Thor came he would ask Loki why. Why did he do it? What purpose could taking Midgard serve him? Why was he so very angry?

Again, Loki would say nothing.

Soon Thor became upset with Loki's persistent silence. He would scream and shout at Loki; desperate and pained by his brother's decision to refrain from giving him answers. He would eventually tire of trying and he would leave in a fit of anger.

Thor eventually stopped coming.

Odin never came at all.

* * *

_"Silvertongue." _

_Loki's eyes were blurred; and it was dark, wherever he was. He could not make out the shape of the being before him, but he knew the voice. _

_The voiced pressed on, desperate. "We had a deal. where is it?" _

_Loki squinted his eyes, trying to make out the form of Malekith. _

_"Where is what?" _

_He could hear Malekith hiss under his breath at Loki's feigned ignorance. _

_"The Casket! I was promised the Casket! Why have you not brought it to me?!" _

_Loki refused to answer. He would buy himself time. _

_"Where am I? What is this place?" His eyes were starting to clear; he could make out Malekith's irate face, and the battered and broken throne behind him. Svartalfheim? _

_"I have brought you here. This is a dream. It is an illusion; fairy magic, nothing more. No more stalling. Why have you not brought me the Casket?" _

_Sickening dread came over Loki. He had almost forgotten this. _

_When Thor was still banished on Midgard, and Loki had been crowned king, he had tried looking for a way to remove the magic upon Mjolnir so that he could wield it himself. He sought out Malekith, once king of the now dead and broken realm of the Dark Elves, who was well known for his skills in magic - a type of magic that Loki himself did not have. Malekith asked for a price: Loki would bring him the Casket of Ancient Winters. With it, he could resurrect his people. _

_But Loki had not yet brought the Casket. Now he was imprisoned and could not do so. More dread filled him. What would Malekith do if Loki refused? How would he fix this? _

_"Events have stalled things, my friend. You will get your Casket, as I promised." Loki smiled disarmingly at him. _

_"You are a fool, Silvertongue, If you think I would believe your falsehoods! You will bring the Casket to me, or I will find another way to get it!" _

_Loki laughed at him. "Please, Malekith. You cannot be serious. What reason would I have to lie? I am giving you the Casket because I need your help. There would be no reason for subterfuge on my part, as you have not yet given me what I want." _

_Malekith considered his words. _

_"Where is it, Odinson?" _

_Loki nearly snarled at the name, but managed to remain calm. _

_"...Things...did not go as planned. I left it with a servant of mine, during my attack on Midgard-" _

_"You left it on __**Midgard**__ in the hands of a __**servant**__!?" Malekith spat his words viciously in Loki's face. _

_He looked ready to kill Loki, though Loki knew he could not do so within a dream. _

_Loki smiled disarmingly. "..Please, my friend, All is not lost. when I break free of my imprisonment-" _

_"You are __**imprisoned**__?!" Malekith raised his hands and grasped onto the front of Loki's tunic. _

_"Tell me Silvertongue, are you truly as pathetic as you seem? If I had known just how worthless this alliance would be, I would not have struck it in the first place!" _

_Loki breathed deeply. How would he get out of this? What was Malekith capable of, should he fail to bring the Casket to him? Malekith was a sentimental fool, but an honorable one. Should Malekith make a promise, he would not waver. _

_"Malekith, be calm. I will lead you to the Casket, and you may get it yourself. There will be no one to stop you. It is in the hands of a mortal who cannot fight you. If I lead you to the Casket, do I have your word, as the king of the Dark Elves, that you will keep to our bargain?" _

_Malekith did not let him go, but he seemed to accept Loki's words. _

_"Know that unlike you, __**snake**__, I do not go back on my words. I will find this mortal, retrieve my Casket, and you will have your Mjolnir. Now," Malekith pulled Loki closer, and whispered menacingly, "Tell me where it is." _

_"On Midgard there is a mortal man named Eric Selvig. Selvig was under a spell that made him answer only to me, but that spell has since faded. Last I saw him, he was in a place called 'New York'. He has ties to a government group called S.H.E.I.L.D. Regardless, you must do what you can to track him down. You will find the Casket with him. He knows not to put it in the hands of the mortal government. He will have kept it. Find him, and you'll get your damned Casket." _

_"What of Odin? Why does he not look for the Casket, if it is not in his possession?" _

_Loki smirked. _

_"Ah, well, the 'great' Odin does not know it is even missing. I replaced it with a duplicate while I still ruled, so Laufey would not get his hands on it. I had hidden the real Casket in another realm before my...alliance with the Chitauri." _

_Malekith looked surprised. "The Chitauri? However did you manage an alliance with those barbaric fools?" _

_Loki's mind flashed back to pain. The stinging itch of dripping wounds. The voice of someone, crying and screaming. _

_His own. _

_Loki smirked. "Am I called Silvertongue for nothing?" he purred. _

_Malekith snarled and pushed him roughly, and he fell into darkness. _

Loki shot out of his blanket, sweat soaked and lungs heaving. He put his face in his hands and groaned.

More complications, even now. Could he never rest? Would it never be over?

No matter. He did not care if Malekith got his hands on the Casket. He did not care if Malekith refused to keep to his bargain. What use would Mjolnir be to him now?

He was going to rot down here.

He laid back down and curled up under his threadbare blanket like a child, defeated.

For many days afterwards, there was no sign of Malekith.

* * *

A bizarre human girl had showed up in front of his dungeon cell.

She sat quietly cross-legged on the dungeon floor, peering at him through the iron bars. She was a small, somewhat rounded and awkward thing. Her coat covered her frame unbecomingly, as if she wished to hide herself in the mass of cloth. He did not know why she was here, or why the guards let her through, or why she was even in Asgard to begin with, but he remained silent; not caring enough to ask. She looked uncomfortable, like she wished to speak but could not bring herself to. He was certain she would eventually bolt from his silent glare.

She did not, and he grew tired of her stare. He pushed himself up from the wall and grasped onto the bars, his frame towering over her to better intimidate her into running.

He moved his face closer to hers and hissed; "Perhaps you should _leave_."

She started at his quiet, menacing words, and he noticed that the rasp in his voice from lack of use was apparent. He watched as she trembled before him in fear. She pulled a pair of spectacles out of her coat pocket and put them on, nervously adjusting them.

"Y-You're the guy who attacked earth; Thor's brother, yeah?"

"No."

She looked confused.

"What? But-"

He interjected viciously. "No, I am not _Thor's brother_."

She remained silent. He thought that perhaps she came here out of some strange sense of curiosity; as if he were a festival attraction; an oddity to be gawked at. He gritted he teeth. Who was she to look upon his shame; a God so fallen from grace?

The silence returned, and she looked down at her fidgeting hands, embarrassed. After a moment she sighed and got to her feet.

"This was stupid-"

"Yes it was." He snapped viciously.

She looked at the floor and shuffled her feet meekly.

"…I should go."

He studied her face in the silence again, before she turned and left down the corridor.

* * *

She had come back.

She held her head higher this time, her frame more guarded, as if she had steeled herself before making the journey back to his cell.

Loki leaned back against the wall, remaining seated on the cold floor. His eyes raked over her like she was a particularly irritating insect.

She looked at him, still standing, and opened her mouth to speak.

"Why did you do it?"

He smirked wryly at her, surprised at her audacity.

"Why should I answer to you, mortal? Who even are you?"

"I'm Darcy. I'm Jane's…friend."

Her hesitance indicated that her 'friendship' with Jane Foster was uncertain.

Why were Jane Foster and her little 'friend' in Asgard? Did Thor actually presume to bring mortals into this realm?

It became clear that she was here because Thor had spoken of him.

Thor had told Jane and this 'Darcy' of him; of where he was and what his crimes were; of his _punishment_. Why would she seek him out? Did Thor ask forgiveness from the mortals in his stead? Did he tell them how 'lost' he thought his 'brother' was? Did he tell the guards to let her into the dungeons? Why?

"You are unwelcome here. _Leave._" He turned his face from her, a clear dismissal.

She shifted back and forth from one foot to the other; before making the decision to plop down on the floor again.

He grimaced.

She pulled her spectacles out of her coat once more, putting them on an looking at him again. Perhaps fidgeting with her spectacles was a nervous habit.

"What is your purpose here, girl? Why do you harass me?"

"Thor asked me to."

He sat up quickly at this. He didn't know whether to be angry or confused at this revelation.

"What?"

She squirmed a bit.

"Well, he didn't ask me _directly_…it was more like he asked everyone, like Sif and that 'Volkswagen' guy. I volunteered. He…He thinks that you…need someone to talk to. You won't talk to Thor, and Jane like, really, really hates you. The others seemed pissed. He didn't really want _me_ to, but I was the only one who agreed to do it. And it's not like you can do anything to me from behind those bars."

He cocked his head sideways. She _volunteered._ How strange.

"Why?"

"I dunno. I'm definitely pissed at you, but I don't really know you enough to outright hate you, I guess. Thor thinks you're not that bad. Trying to take over earth was coo-coo for coco puffs but even crazy people need to talk! Okay, especially crazy people. Is crazy even the right word for it? It's kind of a mean way to put it. Maybe 'really, really angry people' is more appropriate…does Asgard even have psychologists?"

He looked at her like she had grown another head.

She shook her head and continued; "Never mind. I…ramble sometimes. Anyway, Thor is my friend. He needed someone's help, and I'm always there for my friends." She smiled, proud of herself.

She pitied him, he realized. The thought enraged him. Why would she brave an encounter with him, even as caged as he now was? Did she think him too weak, or too soft? A broken, misunderstood thing? He did not think he had ever met someone as naïve as she. What did she hope to accomplish by these visits?

He settled down again, and silence fell. She stared at him for a few moments.

"Hey, you never answered me."

"What?"

She pressed on.

"You never told me why you did it. Why you tried to take over earth."

Loki leaned back, lost in thought.

He could tell her that it was out of revenge; that his hatred of Thor drove him to attack the realm Thor held so precious. He could say that he deserved a throne, and if he could not have Asgard's he would have another. He could say that Thanos and the Chitauri tortured him into doing their bidding. Somehow, despite all of those things actually being factors, none rang true. He was too exhausted to lie, and he owed her nothing, so he did not say anything at all.

* * *

She was back. This time she brought with her a small dish from the banquet hall full of ripe fruits and cubes of soft cheese. she plopped down ungracefully and placed it beside her on the stone floor.

"Hey."

He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. "Mortal."

She quirked her mouth wryly at the title. "My name is Darcy, remember?"

His eyebrow raised higher.

She sighed and popped a cube of cheese into her mouth.

"No need to be all snooty. You want a piece of cheese?"

"You are an _annoyance_. Practically more punishment. I do not see what Thor hoped to gain by sending you here. "

Darcy grinned at him.

"Well you finally spoke again, didn't you?" She picked up a grape and bit into it.

His eyes widened.

He refused to acknowledge her presence again that day.

* * *

She would return on an almost daily basis and she would talk. She would tell him things about herself; of her world and her place in it. She spoke of mortal culture; of things that he did not understand, and she spoke of Jane Foster. She still had not told him why Jane and herself were in Asgard, and she struggled to speak of it when he asked. She never spoke of Eric Selvig, though he knew that Selvig was close to Jane, so perhaps Darcy knew him as well.

_Had Malekith already found Selvig?_

* * *

"So of course, they thought it was me."

He could not keep the smile from his face.

"Hm. And what happened after that?"

She sighed. "Well, I told them that Jenny was the one who drew on the wall, but she had already lied and told them it was me. Of course they didn't believe me, Jenny was everyone's star student. Everything she did was freaking _perfect_. Except you know, the whole _picking on me_ thing. But who cared, when I was the slacker?" Darcy's bitter feelings towards this girl were apparent.

"Why did she pick on you?"

Darcy frowned. "I don't really know. I was always awkward I guess. Jenny was the prettiest 6th grader girl in the school, and I was…I guess I was the girl who was always picked last in gym. Maybe Jenny felt better about herself when she did it. Who knows? Little kids are mean."

He knew the truth of her words. "Why did you not try harder to retaliate? Did you take her treatment in silence?"

Darcy shifted a bit. "Well I never really had it in me to be mean and aggressive like that. I knew what it was like to be treated that way. Why put someone else through it too?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "You were a coward."

She drew herself towards the bars. "Hey! Just because _you_ like to be a bully doesn't mean_ I_ have to!"

He smirked cruelly. "Oh? And what good did your inaction do for you? Tell me, How much did you get stepped on, Darcy? Just how long did the treatment last?"

She seemed to deflate, and was silent for a time.

"I didn't want to _become_ Jenny. I didn't want to retaliate. I was better than that. What kind of person would it have made me, to treat others like crap? How could I have looked myself in the mirror and told myself that I was any better than Jenny?"

Loki was the one silent, now.

* * *

Soon Loki found himself telling her things as well. He could not pinpoint the exact moment when he made this change, it seemed to happen without his knowledge. She would speak and he would respond; sometimes with a recount of a similar occurrence. This seemed to give way to full on stories on his part, and he was loathe to admit the therapeutic qualities of sharing stories of his past with another willing to hear them.

No matter. He would not share anything of too much consequence with this mortal. She could amuse herself with knowing that she had somehow encouraged him to speak, and he could use her presence as a distraction from this quiet hell.

* * *

"They did not listen. Not even Thor. In the end, I ended up with two broken ribs and five lacerations across my chest for my troubles."

Darcy gasped. "Woah! That sucks! Why didn't they listen to you? Clearly you knew about the creatures!"

Loki smirked wryly. "Who listens to the liar?"

Darcy frowned. "So what happened? Did they apologize?"

Loki looked at the cracked stone ceiling. "They did not even speak of it again."

Darcy gaped open mouthed at him. "What the hell? Why?"

"…I discovered later that the quest they had concocted was a elaborate trick intended to cause me grief. It had gone wrong when they realized that I was correct about the incorporeal nature of the creatures. Thor did not know of it, but when Sif had confessed her part in it, and her shame, he promised her that he would let the matter lie."

"…what? But you could have died…"

Loki continued. "Perhaps. But when I confronted Thor about what I had overheard about Sif, …he said that it was nothing more than due comeuppance after all the mischief I had caused him and his friends. I told him that I had _never_ risked their lives…that I never would have, but then he told me that The Warriors Three voluntarily risked their lives many times, and that I was a coward who deserved to see what it was like to be a bit more heroic, like them. I wondered if he was right. Perhaps I had deserved it."

Darcy was quiet. He looked at her face, to judge her reaction.

Tears were in her eyes.

"He…Thor's not like that now."

* * *

He began to tell her more stories that would cause her tears; wishing to draw the reaction out of her. He would feel relief when she cried, and he realized that he had been afraid before; of when others would not acknowledge his pain, as if they were imagined slights. He would believe them when they said he was imagining things, and his pain would be just another thing he found that was wrong in himself.

Her tears were validation.

Her visits had became a routine he enjoyed, the company was a distraction to his otherwise miserable existence in his cell. He could almost call it friendship. She did not seem as ill at ease as she did when things began; it seemed like she enjoyed their talks as much as he did, and this amused him. Silly stories and tales of woe about the past were only that. History.

The present state of things was another matter entirely.

Malekith, for instance. If Loki's theory was right, Darcy was here because Eric Selvig and Jane Foster were threatened at some point, and Thor brought them here. If Eric Selvig was not here, as Darcy's silence suggested, then he was likely dead, and the Casket was probably in the hands of Malekith. If that was so, why had Malekith not spoken to him in dreams? Loki's mind flew.

What was Malekith doing, other than resurrecting his people?

How long until Odin caught on to the fact that Loki may have had a hand in it all?

Loki needed to get free. He needed to find Malekith. But how would he do it?

He thought back to Darcy.

This naïve girl had struck up a friendship with the being that brought so much destruction down upon her world. Was she a complete fool?

He could escape, with the help of another. Her naïveté would be his tool.

He started to plan.

* * *

**EDIT: I looked and saw that all my scene breaks had been removed by the site, making this whole thing one big mess. I replaced them. Sorry for the false update.**


End file.
